


[what protects our hearts]

by ephemerall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, Post-Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/pseuds/ephemerall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hears Lucifer laughing, nothing more than a burning presence somewhere to his left. He can’t see much anymore, blinded by the relentless burning sun; Lucifer’s hand touches his face and the skin blackens and burns, peels away until there is nothing but bone in its place )</p>
            </blockquote>





	[what protects our hearts]

**Author's Note:**

> written for 

  
_have you ever thought about what protects our hearts_

_just a cage of rib-bones and other various parts_

_\--ingrid michaelson_

 

 

 He is standing barefoot in the desert-like heat, only it’s hotter, burning his skin and leaving blisters behind.  He’s thirsty, lips cracked and dry, burning too.  The sun burns bright and hot in the sky, a severe white-yellow that leaves imprints in his retinas if he looks for more than a second.  He’s been walking for days; the sun should have set by now.  The sun never goes down, the heat never eases and he never finds water.  The skin on his feet breaks open, bloody footprints left behind on the dry, cracked ground.

           
  
They swarm after he’s been lying on the ground for what he guesses is days – it feels like it should be days – sharp little claws and tiny, pointed, gnashing teeth.  The blisters on his skin have burst, re-burned and turned into open bloody things that never stop hurting.  He throws-up stomach acid and blood, and lies there in his own sweat and piss and vomit while they come to eat him alive.

             
  
He screams and no one hears him.  The start ripping the flesh with their claws and the smell of blood is sharp and metallic, and then they bite; they sink their teeth into his overcooked skin and tear pieces, tear muscle from bone, and he screams when they start to crunch down on bones.  Their wings are wide and leathery black; he’s grateful they block out the sun.

             
  
He hears Lucifer laughing, nothing more than a burning presence somewhere to his left.  He can’t see much anymore, blinded by the relentless burning sun; Lucifer’s hand touches his face and the skin blackens and burns, peels away until there is nothing but bone in its place.  The smell of death and burning flesh makes him need to throw up, but he can’t gag anymore – they’ve eaten his tongue, his throat, and there’s no muscle left to move.

             
  
Lucifer lets him suffer through them devouring every inch of his body, and when they’re done he wakes up in one piece – a fleshy, boney puzzle put neatly back together – in the middle of some frozen land.  His teeth chatter, and everything burns with the intensity of the cold.

             
  
He gets up.  He walks until he can’t.  And they start all over again.

 

             
  
When he wakes up his mouth is cotton-dry and his head feels cloudy.  His throat burns, feels scraped raw.  He tries to reach up and push his hair out of his face but he can’t; he can’t lift his arms, or his legs – he’s tied down.  He jerks viciously, suddenly needing to be able to move his limbs.

             
  
“Don’t do that.” Dean’s voice is soft, calming, and Sam shakes his head.  It’s not real, it’s just a trick.  “I promise I’m real,” Dean says, and Sam doesn’t remember talking out loud.  “You’ve got restraints on so you don’t hurt yourself; you had a bad night.”

             
  
Sam lifts his head to look down at himself; he’s in soft blue scrubs, the room is sterile white and his wrists and ankles are buckled down with soft restraints.  He doesn’t understand.  He jerks his wrists again, twisting, and the fabric burns against his skin.

             
  
“Sammy, stop,” Dean says softly, leaning over Sam and putting a hand on the side of his face.  Sam stops moving altogether.  “I promise it’s ok.”

             
  
“Out,” Sam says hoarsely.  “I… have to get out before he gets back.”

             
  
“Lucifer isn’t here, Sam,” Dean says.  “He’s in the cage.”

             
  
For a minute Sam doesn’t understand and then it hits him harshly.  It was frozen; the lake was frozen and his feet were frostbitten.  Lucifer reached in with his hands and pulled out his heart; Sam watched his own heart beat in Lucifer’s hands until Lucifer tore it to shreds with his teeth.

             
  
“Someone get in here!” Dean screamed.  He watched helplessly while Sam’s body locked up tight, his eyes rolled in the back of his head and his whole body arched and spasmed.  One of the worst things was watching Sam have a seizure, because there was nothing he could do.  He stepped away when the nurses came in, watched them shoot Sam up with more meds until his body just slumped back to the mattress, his breathing harsh and uneven, the pulse in his neck fluttering wildly.  There was nothing he could do but wait.


End file.
